


Your Hands (They're Magic on Me)

by firesign10



Category: White Collar
Genre: Challenge: Caffrey-Burke Day, Comfort, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:00:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8359936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firesign10/pseuds/firesign10
Summary: Peter has a headache. Neal helps him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Caffrey-Burke Day 2016.

Peter rubbed his eyes, sighing at the pressure of his fingers. He didn't get headaches like this often, thank goodness, but when he did, they were absolutely miserable. His skull ached, his cheekbones throbbed, and his eyes could only squint. He fumbled at his desk drawer, pulling it open and extricating a small bottle of Excedrin and a foil bubble sheet of decongestant. Just one of the other wouldn't do it, but taking both together usually gave him relief, at least for a few hours.

Shutting the drawer, Peter tossed the pills into his mouth and slurped them down with a swig of coffee. The bitter beverage twisted his mouth unhappily. Neal kept telling him to get a French press, when was he going to get around to it? The vile vending coffee bore little resemblance to the smooth, rich brew he enjoyed at home.

Peter's office door opened as he sat the offending cup to one side, and Neal entered, all smiles and bright blue eyes. “Good morning!” Peter managed a narrowed glare at the cheery tone of Neal's greeting. Neal chuckled. “Rough start?”

“Yeah,” growled Peter, giving up the effort of keeping his eyes open. “Got a headache.”

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were just cranky about a case. What's up?” Neal tone softened, and he perched on the corner of Peter's desk. “I've never seen you with a headache like this before.”

“I don't get them often, it's usually a change of season thing, or maybe a big storm front moving through.” Peter leaned his head back against his chair, his hands covering his face.

“That's a drag. Um...mind if I try something?” Peter heard a rustle as Neal hopped off the desk, then his footfalls as he came up behind Peter's chair. Another rustle, this time of fabric, and then the faint snick of a cap popping open and shut, accompanied by the faint smell of...pine? Eucalyptus?

“What's that?” Peter mumbled. Before he could ask anything else, cool fingertips touched his temples, rubbing in gentle circles. The eucalyptus scent intensified, but instead of aggravating Peter's headache as perfumes usually did, it smelt clean and soothing.

“Eucalyptus promotes natural healing; it helps with inflammation and respiratory issues, both of which you're experiencing. Massage helps uncramp muscles and boost sluggish circulation. And all of it feels good.” Neal spoke softly, his words in rhythm with his fingers as they steadily rubbed Peter's temples.

“Mmmmm,” Peter murmured. Neal's fingers left Peter's temples and began to rub his cheekbones, apply a bit more pressure. “Oh, yeah.”

“Counter-pressure can relieve pain, even as the painful area is pressed.” Neal hummed under his breath while he stroked around Peter's face, concentrating on the cheekbones and above the eyes, and then sliding back to the temples. Peter couldn't believe how relaxed he felt--even the nausea that the worst headaches brought was subsiding under Neal's ministrations.

When Neal's hands slid into Peter' hair and started massaging his scalp, Peter thought he might start drooling with pleasure. He heard Neal chuckle. “Judging by the expression on your face, I think you're enjoying this.” Peter gurgled assent.

Finally those soothing hands withdrew, and Peter sighed happily. He slowly opened his eyes and saw Neal smiling at him with an unfamiliar tenderness. “How are you feeling now?”

“Incredible.” Peter yawned. The headache was a shadow of what it had been. “What was that stuff?”

“Eucalyptus lotion—my hands have been dry lately so I brought some in for my desk. Glad I did.”

“Yeah, me too.” Peter sat up straight, blinking. “Wow, I feel a lot better. Thank, Neal.”

“Anytime.” Neal put his hand on Peter's, looking intently into his eyes. “And anywhere. Anywhere at all.”

Peter felt his blood speed up. “Uh, you mean like here, or...at home?”

“Sure.” Neal walked toward the door. “Also, massaging your head...or anywhere else that needs some...attention.” He dropped his eyes down and flicked the back up. “Anywhere.”

The door clicked shut behind him. Peter's gratitude for his headache's disappearance turned into dismay; he realized he had a different kind of ache now.

It was going to be a long afternoon.


End file.
